


Domesticity in the Early Hours

by SherlockRiverHekate



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-07
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-02-12 04:33:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2095941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockRiverHekate/pseuds/SherlockRiverHekate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DI Lestrade went to Baker st to tell Sherlock about a case. He got a look into how the boys live early in the morning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Detective Inspector Lestrade hated calling on Sherlock and John at such a time of the night, despite knowing the consulting detective a) hardly slept and b) would love the case. He felt guilty waking the poor doctor, heaven knows he worked hard enough between the clinic and keeping his roommate in line. Lestrade felt worse this time though, as Anderson and Donovan were coming with him. He hoped they would both keep their mouths shut, it was too early in the morning to be dealing with any verbal wars.

Lestrade pulled up out the front of the Baker street residence, and then buzzed the doorbell. He desperately hoped it would wake one of the two upstairs before it woke their land lady.  
The door opened to see Sherlock, his charcoal hair dishevelled and his blue robe open to show pyjama pants but no top.  
"Inspector," he said, nodding at Lestrade and purposely ignoring the duo behind him, "Come in."  
If anyone noticed Sherlock's voice was slightly deeper and more gravelly than usual, they made no comment. They reached the sitting room just as John has made his way downstairs.  
Lestrade noticed the doctor looked more dishevelled than usual, but he put it down to the fact he'd woken the pair at an ungodly hour of the morning.  
"Lestrade," John nodded a greeting, "Tea anyone?"  
The trio of police shook their heads, and John ambled into the kitchen, presumably to make himself a cup.

"Now, Lestrade," Sherlock said, sinking into his chair and waving at the others to take a seat. "What brings you here at this time of the," he flicks his eyes to the clock, "morning?"  
"A triple homicide," Lestrade replied, "Came straight from the crime scene. Which is why these two are with me."  
"Yea," Anderson started, "It's not like we're here by choice." He practically spat the last word out.  
"I don't even see why we need your help," Donovan continued, "Freak."  
John chose that moment to walk back in, two cups of tea in his hand. Swiftly he handed one to Sherlock, who nodded in thanks, and then turned on Donovan and Anderson before Lestrade could get a word out.  
"While you are in OUR house," he said, voice low and commanding, "You will speak civilly to both myself and Sherlock. Understand?" There was no room for argument in his voice.  
He received a mumbled reply of agreement from both, though Donovan looked like she'd swallowed a lemon. Sufficiently please with the response, he sank onto his chair and then listened to what the Detective Inspector had to say.

After they had been briefed on the situation, the trio stood to leave.  
"Let me change and I will be right behind you," Sherlock stood, his statement directed at the Detective Inspector.  
"What?" John asked, "No, Sherlock. You need a few more hours sleep."  
The taller man turned to look at the ex soldier. "The game is on, John. I can't be wasting time on something as meaningless as sleep."  
There was a light in the detective's eyes, sparkling full of energy. Lestrade looked between the two, wondering if he should wait for Sherlock. John caught his eye, inclining his head towards the door, telling Lestrade to go home.  
"Sherlock, I'm tired and the crime scene can wait until 7am." The lanky detective huffed and pulled his dressing gown tighter around him. Lestrade, with Anderson and Donovan following close behind, slipped out of the apartment.

"I'm going back to bed, Sherlock," John sighed.  
Sherlock nodded, flopping onto the couch.  
"You can't do any work yet, not without seeing the crime scene," John had stopped in the doorway leading upstairs.  
Sherlock huffed before standing up and walking towards John.  
"I suppose I could lie in bed a few hours longer," he trailed off.  
And if he added that the bed was more interesting when John was in it, well only the walls were close enough to hear.


	2. Chapter 2

"John."  
John rolled over in his sleep, he could have sworn he heard someone calling his name.  
"John," There it came again, "John, wake up!"  
This time John knew someone was calling him, as he was pulled from his sleep by rough shaking. He opened his eyes, to see Sherlock's messy hair.  
"Eugh, give a guy some warning before you wake them," He blearily rubbed his eyes, trying to wake up.  
"What time is it anyway?" John asked, the amount of light entering the room making him think the detective had woken him at an unacceptable time.  
"7.05 am," Sherlock promptly replied, "I attempted to wake you at 7, but you took a while to awake."  
John sat up, looking at the skinny man beside him. John wanted more sleep, they hadn't gone to sleep until midnight and then being woken a few hours later by Lestrade hadn't made him feel any less tired. However, there would be no living with Sherlock if he didn't get up so they could go to the crime scene.  
"Alright, I'm going to make some tea, which you are going to drink," John slid out of bed and grabbed his robe, "You get dressed." He kissed the detective lightly on the forehead before leaving the room.

20 minutes later, the pair found themselves in a cab on the way to the crime scene in Covent Gardens.  
"Sherlock," John said quietly.  
The got no verbal response, but the change in the detective's poster showed that the doctor had his attention.  
"Last night, when Lestrade dropped by, do you think they will have figured it out?" John asked, a little bit worried.  
"No, that's hardly likely," Sherlock replied, "Anderson would barely be able to find his way out of a paper bag. I don't believe they would suspect anything about our relationship."  
John murmured his agreement there, "Lestrade is smarter than you give him credit for, Sherlock," John had to mention.  
Sherlock turned, his body now facing the other man.  
"I answered the door, so they didn't see where I came from and your room is upstairs. Combine that with the fact that we both went to bed after they left, and there is no reason that they should come to a conclusion that infers that anything about our relationship has changed," The deduction came out at the normal Sherlock speed, but the voice was less hard than it usually was.  
As the cab pulled up to the crime scene, John reached out and squeezed the consulting detective's hand. A smile tugged at both their lips before Sherlock schooled his expression into an impassive mask, and then they stepped out of the cab into the cool morning air.

As they walked over to police tape, John saw that Sally Donovan was standing next to it. For all that John's brain could remember from the early hours of the morning, she appeared to be dressed the same as when she was when she visited with Lestrade. He hoped that Sherlock wouldn't say anything, but after her behaviour towards him in his own house, John couldn't really reprimand him.  
"Donovan," Sherlock said cordially, "Please inform Inspector Lestrade that John and I are here." The tall man lifted the tape and ducked under, leaving it held up for John to walk under as well.  
"Inspector," She spoke into her walkie talkie, "The," here she stopped and her eyes flicked cautiously to John before continuing. "The consultant is here, I'm sending him through."  
John smiled at her choice of words, before hurrying to catch up to the long legged detective.

The crime scene was relatively ordinary, an empty theatre that had been left to the weather and vandals about a decade ago. What was unusual was the dead body, or more precisely, how and where it was positioned. About a metre and a half above the stage, the body was literally floating, suspended apparently in mid-air.  
Sherlock walked up to it, checking for wires and suspension first.  
"What's the cause of death?" He asked briskly, still searching around the body for any little details.  
"From what we can tell, there's a bullet hole in his forehead," Lestrade replied, standing a little way off as to not get in the consulting detective's way.  
"Any ideas how he got up there," Lestrade asked, "or how to get him down?"  
Sherlock ignored him, instead calling for John.  
"Come here, I want your opinion of the body," he demanded.  
John rolled his eyes as he walked over to the body and his housemate.  
"How am I supposed to see the body, Sherlock?" He asked, "Not everyone is as tall as you."  
In response, Sherlock grabbed John around the waist and lifted him about a two foot off the ground. John let out a startled yelp, but started looking at the body as he felt Sherlock's hands gripped securely around his waist. The lithe man was a lot stronger than most people gave him credit for, a fact that John knew for certain. John finished his examination and let his hands drop by his side.  
"Ah, you can put me down now Sherlock," He said, trying to hide the smile in his voice.  
Their hands brushed as Sherlock lowered him, Sherlock leaning in to whisper in John's ear.  
"We can continue that later," he whispered huskily into John's ear. And John realised that Sherlock had quickly taken his pulse, knowing full well his heart was racing. His face was probably red now too, thanks to that comment.

"It looks like a bullet wound, but I can't say for sure that it's an entry wound. The edges look like it could be an exit wound," John stated, trying to slow his heart rate.  
"I'll get the coroner to have a look when we get the body down," Lestrade said, looking between the two. He knew that something was going on, but he wasn't quite sure what.  
Sherlock looked at John, giving him a rare smile and brushing his hand lightly against the other mans. Lestrade caught the warm smile that John gave in return and suddenly it clicked in his head.  
"Turn off the electricity to the surrounding area, and the body should come down on its own," Sherlock told the inspector, turning to walk away.  
Lestrade nodded, "I know, by the way," He added.  
Both men stopped dead, Sherlock looking impassive, but standing straighter than ever, and John looking a little bit alarmed.  
"Know what, Inspector," Sherlock replied, as John was too startled to say a word.  
"About you and John," Lestrade replied calmly, "It doesn't matter, you know. John is good for you, Sherlock."  
It was about now that John recovered his voice, but decided that it really wasn't worth denying it.  
"Congratulations, by the way," Lestrade added, looking at the blonde man.  
"Thank you, Greg," John replied, "But would you, ah, mind not mentioning it to anyone else?"  
"If you're worried about Anderson and Donovan, I'll make sure they don't do anything stupid. After all, the police force is there to serve and protect," He smiled.  
Sherlock made a non committal noise, but some of the tension in his shoulders disappeared.  
"Well, in that case," John smiled, a twinkle in his eye.  
He took Sherlock's gloved hand in his own and together they walked from the crime scene.


End file.
